


Taking My Time On My Ride

by maridoll



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 2016 Summer Olympics, Alternate Universe - Olympics, M/M, akakei makes an appearance but for like four lines so i didn't add him, bc hq needs more olym fics, but the other half is super fluffy, half of this is shitposting omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maridoll/pseuds/maridoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuroo test a theory, Japan goes to semifinals for volleyball, Kenma is trying His Best™</p>
<p>[Or, the Rio Olympics au everyone has been thinking about]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking My Time On My Ride

**Author's Note:**

> most of this is kuroo’s speculation, and does not equate to what i believe aha. the sparse facts that appear i’ll list at the end. also, some days my kenma is genderfluid, other days agender. in this one, he’s just a person who doesn’t care for gender norms. another small note, think of kk as engaged for their closeness, even though they’re not really, as this is somewhat rl compliant and same-sex is outlawed in japan. i thought about keeping this canon to rl, then decided that wasn’t for me. hope everyone is enjoying the olympics! we need more olym au fics.
> 
> cross-posted with tumblr
> 
>  
> 
> alternative title - literally, i don’t know that man

The ball slammed through the edge of the block, and Kuroo found himself waving his left hand as he landed, not necessarily out of pain, but more of the thrill, the adrenaline that was trying to dive down. He grinned and his face morphed into his signature cheshire expression, yet as opposed to other times, one of his teeth ripped through the skin at his lips, the blood welling up around the edges. He swiped his tongue over the area a couple times, backing up a bit as a timeout was called. 

The prime middle blocker let the hand that wasn’t tingling from force of impact fall onto the salt-and-pepper hair of his long-time friend and present teammate, Bokuto Koutarou. He’d grown a few inches over the other during their time out of high school, easily enabling the action, much to Bokuto’s annoyance. As they both headed to the side to meet the rest of the team, Kuroo ducked his head a little, letting a bit of his hair hide his lips from the probing eyes of video cameras that dotted the area, and spoke in a lower tone. “I found one.”

Bokuto shrugged off the other’s hand, but perked up at the words, his own sly smirk making way to his face. “Oh? And who might that be?”

Kuroo let his face fall forward, straightening and using a hand to swipe damp hair away from his face. About ninety seconds of words from their coach, a former olympian silver medalist himself, and they were edging their way back onto the court. The two once again fell in step.

“Number two.”

“Russell?!”

“Aaron Russell,” Kuroo nodded, simultaneously shushing the other. “Maybe their one, Anderson, if you’re into that type. Sort of reminds me of Sawamura.”

“Dude. Karasuno’s Sawamura?”

“Mm.”

Another play. Another spike from Russell. The ball just barely skids over the tips of his fingers, bouncing out of bounds, but the ref calls it the other way. Kuroo shrugs, the universal “I don’t know”, and blames it on adrenaline, his ongoing strategy for the night. The US team still calls for a challenge, but oh well. He can try.

As another pause in the game comes, he saunters back to Bokuto’s side. The other looked surprisingly good, someone else must have mixed his hair for him. He’d already seen the disaster that was yesterday, when the former owl had tried to fix it himself. Turns out just sticking your hair straight up for three years made you pretty incapable of doing anything else. It had looked presentable; That was about it. 

Today it was slightly stacked on top, wavy loops all around. Clearly not his work, though Kuroo had already let him know his two cents before their evening match. 

“Damn. You’re right. I can see it now.”

“Mhmm,” Kuroo agreed. 

Another teammate caught on, shortly after. “Did you two make another bet? No, no forget I asked. What is it this time?” The words caught the attention of a couple others, all just about used to the two’s antics.

Kuroo took the reins this time, announcing their hypothesis with outstretched arms for extended emphasis. “How gay is the Rio olympics.”

A collection of groans sounded. Not what they were expecting, yet something spot-on to what the two would spend their free time doing -and clearly more, as they were risking their professionalism by putting up tests during _the middle of a match._

The mapped replay came on overhead, confirming Kuroo’s touch. A point went to the US team.

“Is this about Aaron Russell?” Another asked. “Because I know he might look that way, but the hair is actually a generic American style. He has a very female fiancée.”

The six began to part to get back into position. Still, it’s not like the others could particularly understand . . As Bokuto audibly groaned in defeat, Kuroo let out a simple comment quickly after that stifled the team just a bit. “Bi.”

Although, even if that were the case, the fiancée part totally rocked his plans to somewhat flirt and see if he could get a bite. He hadn’t continued English classes in university for nothing, after all. 

Oh well. He’d have to find another specimen.

-

Kenma sat by and kept to himself in a hefty patch of emptiness in the stands. The decision was partially his choice; He’d been feeling a little tired, after all, energy slowly draining, but he couldn’t just go back to the apartment. This was . . the next best option, in a roaring stadium. 

Japan led by two in the third set. Not one of victory, but rather, to determine which team would be the first to reach two out of the five they might play. Kenma really hoped it wouldn’t be five. As much as he enjoyed watching his country’s olympians compete, today was already a shaky day, and he didn’t want it to turn sour. Not when the quarterfinals were on the line.

He sat on the edge of his seat, legs covered by a kind of desert trouser he’d found at a local shop, one the wind was able to blow through to offer some relief from the heat. He’d debated wearing hefty shoes with it, but ultimately went with rolling up the hems just a bit and then stuffing his feet into a pair of sandals. His hair had grown just a bit from his high school days, strands now falling just past his shoulders. He’d cut it recently, biting another section of the bleach off. There were only a few inches left, the rest an inky black. He wasn’t all that bothered, though. Kuroo said it looked nice, so he was content.

At another point for the Japanese team, he hid a small smile behind the large sleeve of his burgundy sweater, an item he’d picked up on the women’s side of a department store back home. It was something he favored, and although it was a little hot, it was something to sheathe him just a bit from the crowds.

It was half an hour later that he felt his breath catch, a long rally turned point as Kuroo’s form swiftly rose to block the ball, slamming it on the other side just past the setter’s outstretched arms. Match point, to be exact. That meant . .

Kenma jumped to his feet as the arena exploded. Down on the ground, Kuroo was surrounded by his team, all of them celebrating the victory. Kenma brought his hands to his mouth, hiding the gape of disbelief. They had won against the American team. 

Kuroo’s face flicked over to find his, searching, and Kenma found himself slightly trembling with joy. He separated his hands and cupped them around his mouth, joining in with the cheers. “Kuroo,” he called, quite loudly by his standards. “Good job, Kuroo!” As the other jabbed a thumbs-up at him, Kenma felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He smiled and nodded, and stood there soaking in the notion of the victory.

-

“Thank you,” Kuroo said, a reply to one of Japan’s newscasters as she commented on his blocking in the final set. “Although my shoulders disagree. Might have to try that cupping therapy that everyone’s been on about. Though I don’t know that the marks are appealing . . How long are they supposed to last?”

“One to two weeks is what the majority have been saying,” she told him. 

Kuroo bit his lip. “See, don’t know that I’m about that. Well, maybe I would be okay, but I doubt people would want to be seen with me . .”

The reporter let out a light laugh. “I guess that brings forth a question I’m sure most would want to know. How is Kozume? Is he here?”

“Kenma?” Kuroo turned his head, searching until he found him starting to climb down the stairs, head down. He gestured over to him, figuring if he didn’t know a camera was on him, he wouldn’t get mad about it later. “He’s doing good. Been to every game so far. He doesn’t show it, but he’s pretty excited, especially about the advancement.”

The reporter nodded, turning to talk to the viewers. “Japan moves to the semifinals, and the game is just a two short days away! That said, any plans for your day off?” she asked him.

“Mm, not yet. It depends on where I’m needed, what Kenma wants to watch, stuff like that.” He flicked his eyes over to the other once more, and, as if sensing the presence, Kenma’s head rose and amber eyes found his. He offered a small wave, which Kuroo smiled to, before resuming his trek downward. 

“I understand. Well, there you have it! Words from the volleysquad’s Kuroo Tetsurou! Later, join us in the studio for a word from the team’s captain . .”

Kuroo wandered off when he got the word from the crew man. As he spotted another teammate finishing up an interview, he shot up a hand. “Bo,” he called.

Bokuto startled a bit at the sudden call, but headed over quickly upon realizing who it was. “Hey. Sick game, man. They ask about Kenma?”

“A bit,” Kuroo told him. “He’s probably going to be waiting for me, so I’m heading out. Our bet’s still on, though!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it ending, bro!”

-

Kenma wasn’t by any means used to the spotlight or the criticism that came with it.

That said, he did have a vlog. And he spoke frequently about his indifference to gender conformities. He also did other stuff, like playing games, showing snippets of animation -he was a design major in uni, so most of these ended up being for class projects- sneaking in bits of Kuroo either cooking or practicing some technique with other teammates. 

It had been Kuroo that was the reason Kenma had passed his English exams back in high school, and so it made some sort of sense that Kuroo would be the one to continue to push Kenma into getting more fluent. He didn’t take classes, but there was no need, with Kuroo constantly repeating what he’d gotten that day. He made sure to make his bilingual self known on his digital presence, no matter how poorly he spoke in comparison to someone who’d grown up across the Pacific -Kuroo said he was fine, everyone was always saying he was great, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit paranoid- and this ended up increasing his fan base. Needless to say, the internet knew Kenma. They also knew of Kuroo, because of said reasons, and knew of the two’s status. 

And while the ‘round-the-world internet presence was supportive, Kenma knew others were not so much. It didn’t help that he was in a relationship with an olympic athlete, here, at the olympics, so much either. 

So as soon as he met up with Kuroo near the exit of the stadium, he stole the other’s team jacket, already plenty big on its owner, and proceeded to drown himself in the material while Kuroo tied his sweater around his waist, nodding in approval. 

It was easier this way, for Kenma. This way, he could walk out, and hold Kuroo’s hand, and have the hood of the jacket slightly covering his face, and forget about the cameras and the flashes and the opinions and just be himself. 

He still let Kuroo snap a picture, though, and throw it up on social media, captioned ‘Next is semis, but first, gotta report a jacket thief’ (Kenma didn’t know until later that night, and even then only proceeded to snort before turning off the lights).

Maybe this was the reason, when he heard his full name called out in heavy accents, he was able to look towards the teens who’d asked for him and let a small smile grace his lips.

“Hi,” he said in English, adding a small little wave, and continued toward the exit as the kids burst into chatter, Kuroo’s arm looping around a shoulder.

“There anything you wanna do tonight?” 

Kenma shook his head. “Gymnastics ended an hour into the match, but I recorded it back at the apartment. Everything else is pretty much done.”

“Oho? Who won?”

“America.” He paused. “Japan got fourth.”

Kuroo whistled, bobbing his head. “Pretty sweet.”

He said the same thing a couple hours later, after the second American completed her floor routine. “Is that the one you like?” He asked. 

Kenma nodded. “Aly Raisman. From the London olympics.” He sat up a little straighter. “This is Simone, the only I was telling you about.”

Kuroo, not really knowing much knowledge of the sport, just watched in awe. A thought stuck in his head at the end, when the American team came together, Simone in the middle of it all. “I wonder if she’s gay . .,” he murmured. 

Kenma looked over. “What?”

He shook his head. “Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

-

“That one.”

Bokuto squinted, trying to make up his mind. “Are . . are Brits supposed to be gay?”

“No one’s supposed to, bro, they just are.”

“Bro.”

The two were at one of the aquatic centers, watching the mens diving finals. Akaashi had been dragged along, but he already knew of the bet, so it was fine.

“Just look at it.” Kuroo folded his arms over his chest. “They win bronze, they embrace hard enough to fall back in the pool. I don’t care if they are gay, _that’s gay_.”

“Shit. You’re right.”

“Don’t mean to be a downer,” Akaashi buts in, “Or, well, this might be a good thing. You see that guy over there closer to the bottom of the stands? The one in red, taking off his shades?” At their nods, he continued. “That’s Tom Daley’s fiancée.”

The two were completely silent for approximately four seconds. Then they burst into such loud screams that Akaashi moved down a seat, looking anywhere but them.

“We found one, Bo!”

“I know bro! Oh-Wait!” Bokuto paused, made a show of collecting his breath. “Dude. You and Kenma were literally shown holding hands on TV last night.”

“Really?”

“You’ve been looking for something under your feet the whole time, Kuroo-san.”

“Yeah, what Akaashi said!”

Kuroo thought. And then he thought some more. And then he decided if he ran all the way back to Olympic Village Kenma would just be getting up, so he took off right then and there at a sprint, the other two cheering him on.

–

bonus -

“Kenma!”

He’d just been ready to stand from the edge of the bed when Kuroo came bursting in with an ear-splitting screech. He didn’t stand, he jumped, and then outright fell, and then his foot caught on the edge of the sheets and he ended up sprawled halfway under the desk in front of him.

“Ouch. You okay?”

“Fine,” Kenma grunted.

“Just che-OH! Okay. So you still know useless trivia about people, right?”

Kenma attempted to get to a sitting position. By himself. Help would have been nice. “Sure. .”

“Cool. Cool. So does Usain Bolt have a boyfriend?”

Kenma deadpanned. “Get out.”

**Author's Note:**

> so olym facts
> 
> tom daley does have a male fiancée, dustin lance black. him and dan goodfellow also did fall into the pool when they heard they won bronze, which was cute, but daley is taken, and dan has a gf back home as well. 
> 
> usa won team gold for w artistic gymnastics, russia silver, china bronze, and japan fourth. 
> 
> the qf for men’s volleyball hasn’t happened yet, and i don’t think usa is doing as well as i sorta portrayed here, i think they’ve already lost two against canada and italy
> 
> aly raisman and simone biles are both part of usa all around for gymnastics. aly also had an amazing floor routine i highly suggest you watch it
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr is cheyenneswirl ! most of my works go up there


End file.
